Chapter 44: Serpopard

His gaze darted around, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The dense canopy above, the carpet of leaves below, each element a potential ally. With a deep breath, Bayo began to move, his actions deliberate yet fluid.

He scrambled up the nearest tree, its bark rough against his palms. From his perch, he could see the wolves clearly—ten of them, each a lethal combination of muscle and instinct. Bayo reached into his bag, retrieving a small pouch that smelled of herb and oil.

"Let's hope you're as curious as you are hungry," he whispered, mixing the contents with practiced precision.

With a flick of his wrist, the concoction arced through the air, landing in the underbrush to his left. The effect was immediate. The wolves' heads snapped towards the scent, their earlier aggression replaced by intense curiosity.